Sometimes You Can't Make it On Your Own
by LaueHime
Summary: Oneshot. Pre-series. Stanford era. Dean has always been good at taking care of Sam. How can he do that if Sam is at Stanford?


**Title: **Sometimes You Can't Make it On Your Own

**Author:** LaueHime

**Genre:** Angst, hurt/comfort, family.

**Rating:** PG

**Characters:** Dean, Sam.

**Word count: **~ 3,600

**Warnings:** Language as usual.

**Summary:** Pre-series. Stanford era. Dean has always been good at taking care of Sam. How can he do that if Sam is at Stanford?

**Disclaimer:** The show belongs to Kripke.

**A/N:** Written for Senberet's prompt on LiveJournal which was "_while Sam's at Stanford, Dean drunk dials him_". It was posted on Cowboyguy's meme. I hope you like it!

XXX

Dean is sitting on top of the beige comforter; mind in a quiet daze. He has been doing that a lot lately. He and his dad finish a hunt, they get back to the motel and Dean spends the next hours staring at the walls in troubling silence. John commented on it at first, but then he simply dropped the matter and let his eldest to his solitary musing.

Things simply aren't the same anymore. The Winchester trio has lost a member; an important one, too. Dean used to know what to do when they got back from a hunt. He took care of Sammy. That was his duty and he never failed that job. With Sam gone, it's like he has lost the one thing that he is cut out for.

The hunts don't seem so amusing when he can't tease his little brother about his hair or about naming Sam's hallmark bitch-faces. The motel rooms get so quiet without Sam's never-ending bouts of complaining about the fuglies they hunt or about the fact that every new room smells of cat piss and cigarette smoke.

Dean smiles at the thought of his brother. It makes his heart squeeze painfully to think of the way they parted. Sam didn't exactly prepare his departure in peace, but he also isn't the only one who yelled that night. They haven't really spoken since and Dean is getting lonely.

A crippling void stands where his stomach should be, rendering all thoughts of feeding himself nauseating. His dad has left; has most likely hit the bar by then. Dean won't take too long to follow. Absentmindedly, he stands up precariously to grab his leather jacket and keys. He's not expecting to be back anytime soon.

XXX

Sam is nose-deep inside his volumes. His exams are coming faster than he can manage. Studying day in, day out is his only way of keeping a sense of control over it all. It's not like he had not expected college to be this way. It's just that despite his best will, things have to be done in order to keep his head out of the water.

The fact that his roommate is sprawled on the couch playing videogames doesn't help. Sam holds his head up straight with both hands, elbows resting on the table, and looks at the television from where he is sitting in the kitchen. He wishes he could take some kind of break and play, even though he knows he really shouldn't.

A familiar ringtone pulls him out of his thoughts. He hasn't heard it in a long time. Actually, it's the longest time he's ever been without hearing it. He almost doesn't believe it until he sees the caller ID.

"Hey."

He doesn't know what to say. After not talking for so long, it's not like there's any easy way to start.

"_Heyyyyy Sammmy! How's mah favorite boy doin'?_"

Sam huffs frustratingly. "You're drunk," he states. His tone bears accusation. Dean snorts in the receiving end.

"_Ohhh yeah, I'm fine! Thanks for askin'._"

Sam rolls his eyes and pretends Dean didn't get that, even from the distance. "What do you want, Dean?"

"_Someone's inna good mood! Do I need to check with your secretary whenever I wanna talk to mah brother?_"

Dean sounds offended, but it's not like Sam is going to fall for it. What good could possibly come out of his brother drunk-calling him on a school night?

"We haven't talked in months. Why now?"

There is a pause on the line. Dean is probably working up his best shit-eating retort. Sam apprehends what is going to come next.

"_T'make sure you're not too miserable out there. D'you remember to brush your teeth three times a day like a big boy?_"

Sam takes a deep breath to remain composed. "I'm doing just fine, thank you. You sure you're not the one wallowing in how much you miss me?"

Dean's sudden laugh sounds forced. "_Me? Naaahhh! Ya know me. You do you're thing… that thing you have t'do. Dontcha worry 'bout me._"

Sam can imagine his brother waving him off, even if he can't see him. Quietly, the corners of his lips tug into a light smile.

"Take care of yourself, Dean. And uh… thanks for calling. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

A sliver of hope warms its way into his chest. Maybe his departure didn't completely cut his ties with his family after all.

"_You too, Sammy. And if someone's not nice t'you, you call me 'kay?_"

There is the big brother Sam knows and misses. Even if he won't go through with the instruction, he can't ignore his brother's gesture. He instantly feels warmer. An amused chuckle escapes his lips.

"Sure thing. Good night."

When he hangs up, he stares at his phone for several seconds. He doesn't realize he's the center of attention until Brady clears his throat. Sam notes then that his roommate has his game on pause and is looking at him expectantly.

"Who was that?"

Sam is trying to think of a way to deflect this, but he knows he won't be able to.

"My brother."

Brady frowns. "I thought you two weren't talking anymore."

Sam shrugs. "We weren't."

His surprise is hard to miss. Brady finally smiles back at him. "Cool, man. This might just be the start of something."

Sam nods.

"I hope so."

XXX

Whatever Sam wished for that night, it wasn't this.

He went to the door when he heard the knock. What he wasn't expecting was to find Dean on the front porch. The stench of whiskey wasn't part of the plan either.

"Dean? What are you doing here?"

They talked on the phone one month ago and Sam hasn't heard of Dean ever since. Of course, he wasn't prepared for the surprise. He can't decide if it's a good one, either.

His brother stumbles forward and Sam has to catch him before he stumbles face first and breaks something.

"I was in the neighborhood and I thought it would be lame not to come and visit!"

Dean is obnoxiously loud and Brady is sleeping. Sam cringes at the excessive decibel use.

"It's two in the morning, Dean!" He motions for his brother to come inside quietly.

Dean puts a finger on his lips as if he's trying to keep an obvious clue to himself in order to remember what he's supposed to do. Sam would almost find it amusing if it weren't for the circumstances.

"Sorry. Hunt finished late. I didn't wanna miss seeing you because of it…"

Sam feels a stab of sympathy for his brother. He closes the door behind them and walks Dean to the couch.

"Is dad around?" he asks dreadfully.

Dean shoots confident, albeit glassy, green eyes Sam's way. "He doesn't know I'm here, don't worry."

Something resembling disappointment takes Sam by surprise. Despite the way they left things and despite the words that were spoken, knowing his father is in the same town unsettles him. He catches himself wondering why they can't deal with their issues like normal families do.

Dean starts to walk towards the fridge. Sam is still pondering when he snaps out of his own head to the sound of the fridge opening. His big brother is leaning towards his roommate's beer.

"I see you've already made yourself at home. Unfortunately, this isn't mine."

Dean's head pokes back out of the fridge to look sheepishly at Sam.

"I was just checking to see if you've got all the nutritive groups to prepare that rabbit food you love so much." He flashes his good-intentioned grin and Sam instantly falls for it, rolling his eyes.

"Why the sudden worry? I can take care of myself just fine!"

For an instant, he feels like Dean doesn't trust him at being an adult. Only, his brother looks away shyly.

"I know you can. I guess I'm just used to doing it, you know?"

Something like regret, or maybe even nostalgia, crosses Dean's eyes. Sam can't tell from where he stands. He doesn't miss the hint, though. His big brother is just being his big brother.

"Hey, you pretty much taught me everything I know. So unless you doubt your own teaching skills…"

Dean pulls out a quiet, lopsided grin. Just like that, he seems to have stepped down from being Sam's mother to being his brother.

The youngest can't help but smile back. "What about you? Everything okay with dad?"

The smile fades from Dean as soon as the words fill the room. It's as if 'dad' and 'smile' can't cohabit in the same space.

The eldest casts his eyes down and shrugs. "You know him. He's driven and he's stubborn as fuck. But we do okay, I guess."

Sam nods as he starts to nibble on his bottom lip. His lips spread into a smile.

"Like father, like son."

Dean looks up, startled. "That applies to you too, bitch!"

"Fits you more, though. Jerk!"

Both smiles widen enough to light up the room.

Sam finally gives in with a shrug. "I knew you missed me. C'mon, I'm hungry! Wanna grab a bite?"

It's not the way Dean reluctantly accepts that catches Sam's attention. It's how he picks the best possible place for his brother to grab a burger, but Dean only takes fries instead; pushing them around his plate. Maybe he isn't hungry, though.

Sam doesn't push it as he eats his burger. It's possible his brother isn't firing on all cylinders and he honestly can't blame him.

XXX

Dean does everything he seems to be able to do as of late. That includes sleeping, looking at the TV without really watching it and staring at the walls. Whenever he's not hunting, it's as if he doesn't know what to do. He has all that free time ahead of him and no one to spend it with. Going out alone isn't as fun as it used to be while, at the motel, he still doesn't find anything to pick his interest.

John gives him more and more solo hunts. They've been doing that a lot and things have been working out well enough to warrant this new dynamic between them. They hardly speak except for when John has specific instructions for his son.

Nothing seems fun anymore. Even food doesn't taste the same. It's not like Dean has any appetite whatsoever.

He doesn't call Sam. He has made the first steps the last two times. His brother has his apartment and his life; his friends. Dean doesn't want to be intrusive; doesn't want Sam to think badly of him.

Some nights it gets bad. He wants to talk so much it makes him sick to have to keep it all in. Whenever he's done dry-heaving up the emptiness of his stomach, he thinks of calling Sam just to hear his voice. It would make him feel so much better.

He doesn't call.

One night, his heart picks up speed when he reads Sam's name on his caller ID. He wipes saliva from his chin with the back of his hand and clears his throat before picking up.

"Hey, Sam."

There are so many things he wants to say; he's assaulted at once. All the flurry makes him dizzy.

"_Hi, Dean. Is this a bad time? You know I can call back…_"

Dean's heart pounds against his chest. "No! No. I'm glad you called."

After spending weeks thinking about calling Sam but not doing it, he won't let his brother get away.

"_Yeah, me too. I just… wanted to talk, you know._"

Dean has to lower himself into a sitting position when his knees start to wobble. He rubs his fingers into his tired eyes.

"Sure, hey. You know you can call me anytime, right?" That sounds funny even to him, but Sam doesn't seem to mind. He wishes he could heed his own proposition.

"_Thanks, Dean. Actually, I'm calling because I need some… advice_." There's a hint of shyness in his voice.

Dean's unease turns into excitement. He isn't fully aware of how happy it makes him to be the one Sam calls for help. His uncontrollable smiling is what finally clues him.

"I take it you can finally identify true expertise," he jokes. Sam's laugh only fuels his smile. He hadn't realized its powerful effect on him until then.

"_In this case, it's kind of why I'm calling. See, there… there is this girl…_" Sam stutters before coming to an abrupt stop.

Dean's smile has the same reaction. It takes him a few seconds to process. Sam is calling for dating tips. It's not what Dean expected. He thought Sam would say that he missed him; not that he wanted to move on.

He takes a couple of quiet breaths. "Ohh, Sammy. Who's the lucky girl?" he finally manages to say.

Dean hears the smile in Sam's voice.

"_Her name is Jessica… Jess…_"

"Is she pretty?"

Sam giggles like a teenager. "_She's mesmerizing. She's stunning… and she's smart…_"

Dean snickers. "You've met my feminine twin, really?"

There is a pause on the line and Dean can tell that Sam pulled out bitchface number 7.

"_I'm sure you'd like her, Dean. She's perfect_."

Sam sounds like he's under a spell or something. Dean has experience with girls, but none have ever made him feel the way Sam feels for Jess. He doesn't want to say he is uncomfortable. His little brother sounds happy and he really wants to be happy for him.

He tries to think of the things he can say. A sad grin rises on his face and he is thankful Sam can't see him. "How's the rack?"

Indignation instantly leaks from Sam's breathing pattern. "_Dude! Are you for real?_"

Dean chuckles at his own jokes. His shoulders drop in tension when Sam joins him.

"Sure am! If she's got a nice rack, you tell her you two are meant to be because you have a nice di…"

"_Dean! Stop fucking with me! She's not that kind of girl_," Sam interrupts before Dean can be any more obscene.

The smile on Dean's face gets sadder and eventually withers away. "I'm sure she's very special if you've chosen her…"

"_She is_," Sam replies right away.

Dean chews his bottom lip. "I mean special like equipped with a deep th…"

"_Fuck, man! I hate you!_" Sam blurts out before Dean can fully speak his mind. The latter finds himself laughing instead.

Only, his laugh sounds haunted. "Aw, I love you too," he finally says.

Sam snorts but Dean can tell he is amused still.

"_Suddenly I'm not so sure I want advice from you._"

Dean swallows. "Only thing I can say is don't be like me. That Jessica seems like a girl who deserves to find a man who'll respect her. I think you're the one who has the answers to that."

Sam takes a pause as if he is thinking. "_So you're saying I gotta be myself?_"

Dean nods before speaking. "Yup. Be your geeky self. If she doesn't like you, then she isn't the smart girl you depicted her to be."

There is something in the act of saying those words that has a profound effect on him. A lump forms in his throat.

"_Thanks, Dean. I appreciate that._"

"Anytime," he chokes out nervously.

They hang up and Dean finds himself feeling frighteningly empty. Sam is moving on. He should too.

Why can't he?

XXX

On his next trip to California, Dean doesn't even ask himself if he needs to stop by Sam's or not.

He timidly knocks on the door as soon as he is standing in front of it. The chilly breeze makes him shiver like a leaf. He did drop a few pounds lately; not that he's trying to. Surely enough, the missing layer is appealing with the cold Californian winter winds.

Sam lets Dean in. He even introduces him to his roommate, Brady. Dean is a little nervous about his impromptu visit, but Sam assures him that he's happy to see him. He makes some coffee and tells Dean all about Pre-Law before he starts talking about Jess.

When Sam asks Dean how things are doing on his side, Dean pretends that everything is fine albeit tranquil. He tells his little brother of a few of his hunts, but mostly listens.

As long as he sees Sam, he's fine with it.

Sam makes food and Dean hardly touches it. He says he had lunch before coming. Sam offers to keep him overnight, but Dean insists on going. He doesn't want to burden his little brother any longer.

When he gets back to his motel room, its emptiness assaults him. He takes a burning-hot shower and finally curves into a shivering ball in the bed. He hardly sleeps that night and the subsequent ones follow the same pattern.

It occurs to him that he's very bad at taking care of himself.

XXX

He's more than surprised one day when Sam knocks on the door of his motel room. Dean wraps the bathrobe tighter around his fine waist.

"How did you find me?"

Sam studies the state of the room before his concerned eyes rest on Dean.

"A buddy of mine showed me a few tricks. I tracked your phone. Are you alone? Where's dad?"

Dean looks around for the obvious absence of their father. The movement makes his head spin sickeningly. His vision blurs and he tries to hide it from his little brother.

"He left as soon as we finished the hunt. I stayed a little… needed some rest," he lies while rubbing his closed eyes with his fisted hands.

"Are you alright, Dean?"

The eldest drops his fists from his face to shoot a glance at his brother. The light is too sudden for his sensitive eyes and the last thing he knows is that everything turns to dark at once and he feels like he's falling.

When he wakes up, he notes the fact that he's lying in the motel bed. He's wrapped in a bundle of blankets underneath the comforter. Even then, he still feels cold.

"Hey, you awake?"

Dean's eyes instantly trace Sam's voice. The latter is coming towards him with a glass of juice.

"Yeah but I don't remember going to sleep. What happened?"

He takes the juice with shaky fingers. Sam sits on the side of the bed next to him.

"You fainted."

"I _what_?"

"You passed out, Dean. One second I was talking to you and the next, you go all limp like a melting marshmallow. I picked you up and carried you here," Sam explains worriedly. He's obviously aware that something is not right and worries are written all over his face.

Dean tries to make sense of it all. He remembers feeling bad then nothing. If the remaining fatigue and general weakness is anything to go by, it is possible that _maybe_ Sam isn't making it all up.

"You? You carried _me_ in here?"

Sam looks back with disbelief. "I didn't even break a sweat. Dean, how long have you been neglecting to eat?"

Surprise causes Dean's lower jaw to drop. "I do eat, mom."

"Do you? Because I went all around the place to fix you something to eat and I hardly found anything. Besides, you've obviously melted and I've noticed for months. I should've said something sooner, I'm sorry."

Dean is trying to push himself up from the bed. "It's not your fault, Sam. You're not my parent. You don't have to look out for me," he grunts.

Sam tries to block his brother's momentum until they can, at least, finish the conversation.

"Yes I do! Not in the way a parent would but I'm your brother. We're supposed to look out for each other, right? I mean, you've looked out for me all my life."

"Exactly! I'm your big brother, it's _my_ job to take care of you," Dean states as he untangles himself from the many layers of clothing Sam wrapped him in.

"Then who's gonna take care of you?" Sam asks innocently. Dean is taken aback abruptly enough to stall from whatever he was doing.

He doesn't look up from fear that his emotions will betray his façade.

"You're not Dad, Dean. You're not Superman or Mother Fucking Theresa! You're my big brother and you do an awesome job at that, but you obviously have some issues at taking care of yourself. Let me help you. Please."

Chills run up and down Dean's spine making the hair stand on his skin. He swallows past the lump in his throat.

"Okay," he whispers so quietly Sam wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been leaning forward.

"Okay! Thank you, Dean."

Sam pats his brother's shoulder. He feels the tension and the tremors Dean is fighting so hard to hold back.

"Let me get you a burger. You seem like you need it."

Dean nods. When he thinks about it, he's actually starving. Eating alone is just never that appealing whenever Sam's away.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean murmurs, but with genuine gratitude.

"Sure, Dean. Anything you need. While I'm gone, why don't you take a shower too? No offense, but you kinda need it right now."

Dean nods again and finally allows himself a light smile. He waits until Sam is gone and until the burning water slaps his cold skin to finally break down and cry. Only, he's crying tears of relief.

END


End file.
